


If the Sky Comes Falling Down

by Agapostemon



Series: Cardboard Castles [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Keith (Voltron) Has BPD, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, POV Alternating, Self-Harm, Shiro (Voltron) has PTSD, broganes, kind of, shiro is also a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agapostemon/pseuds/Agapostemon
Summary: Matt (5:34pm): you’re about to do something stupid and sentimental, aren’t youShiro (5:35pm): How big of a mistake would it be for me to let him come live with me for a while?Matt (5:35pm): HAHAHAHAHAMatt (5:35pm): i knew itShiro (5:36pm): That’s not an answer.Matt (5:37pm): you’re gonna do it anyways so why are you asking me?Or: Shiro accidentally-on-purpose adopts a hot mess of a little brother while Matt cackles fondly in the distance.





	1. Shiro

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to [Fill Me In](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9512381/chapters/21514565) and sequel to [ Somebody Catch my Breath](), but you can read them in any order.
> 
> Content Warnings: Cursing, mental illness is a major theme (including dissociation and self-harm)
> 
> Character Ages for Reference:  
> Shiro - 27  
> Matt - 25  
> Keith - 18  
> 

**Wednesday, Feb 25**

> _Shiro (5:25pm): Remember how I’m not supposed to pick favorites at my job?_
> 
> **Matt (5:25pm): and you do anyways?**
> 
> _Shiro (5:26pm): Yeah, exactly. Anyways, remember the kid I got really attached to last year and had kind of a meltdown when he got kicked out of the program?_
> 
> **Matt (5:27pm): oh yeah uh… kyle? the teenage delinquent?**
> 
> _Shiro (5:27pm): Keith._
> 
> **Matt (5:27pm): yeah that’s the one**
> 
> _Shiro (5:28pm): And he’s not a delinquent. He’s just a mentally ill foster kid who gets himself into trouble all the time._
> 
> **Matt (5:28pm): i mean, “gets himself into trouble all the time” is kind of the definition of delinquent, but okay**
> 
> _Shiro (5:29pm): Alright, no need to argue semantics._
> 
> _Shiro (5:29pm): Anyways, he’s about to age out of the foster system and they’re trying to put him in a group home._
> 
> **Matt (5:30pm): how did you find this out?**
> 
> _Shiro (5:31pm): Apparently I’m not the only one who picks favorites._
> 
> **Matt (5:31pm): ???**
> 
> _Shiro (5:32pm): He tracked down my number and called me._
> 
> **Matt (5:32pm): …………**
> 
> _Shiro (5:32pm): He’s scared shitless._
> 
> **Matt (5:34pm): you’re about to do something stupid and sentimental, aren’t you**
> 
> _Shiro (5:35pm): How big of a mistake would it be for me to let him come live with me for a while?_
> 
> **Matt (5:35pm): HAHAHAHAHA**
> 
> **Matt (5:35pm): i knew it**
> 
> _Shiro (5:36pm): That’s not an answer._
> 
> **Matt (5:37pm): you’re gonna do it anyways so why are you asking me?**
> 
> _Shiro (5:38pm): For an aerospace engineer who supposedly can’t read people to save his life, you sure can read my mind sometimes._
> 
> **Matt (5:38pm): ;)**

 

 

**Saturday, Mar 7**

Keith is a little worse for the wear when Shiro retrieves him from his last ever foster home. He has a partially-healed black eye and his knuckles are raw and red.

“Still getting into fights, I see,” comments Shiro as he helps the younger boy load himself and his single luggage bag into his black station wagon.

Keith just grunts and shrugs.

Shiro climbs into the driver’s seat and looks back at Keith, “I’m not leaving until you put on your seatbelt, you know.”

Keith reluctantly complies, and Shiro pulls out of the driveway. There’s a moment of awkward silence before Shiro speaks up again, “So, happy birthday! I haven’t gotten your cake yet, because I don’t know what you like.”

“I don’t need a cake,” Keith replies in a monotone, staring blankly out the window.

Shiro frowns, “Well, what _would_ you like?”

Keith glowers out the window for several seconds before asking gruffly, “Do you have any coffee?”

“Sure, kiddo,” says Shiro, “What kind do you like?”

“The kind with caffeine,” responds Keith, completely deadpan.

Shiro isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, but either way it takes a lot of effort to keep his voice steady, “Alright, buddy. I’ve got some at home, but I can pick up more next time I’m at the store. Is there anything else you’d like? Maybe something special, since it’s your birthday?”

Keith shrugs, “I like spicy stuff, I guess.”

Shiro forces a smile, “Why don’t I take you to the Thai place downtown? They have spicy stuff _and_ coffee.”

“Sure, whatever,” Keith says, just as deadpan as before.

“Alright,” says Shiro, struggling to remain optimistic, “It’s on our way, so why don’t we stop there before we head home?”

\----------------

Despite his efforts to deny it, dinner does seem to have bolstered Keith’s spirits at least a little. If nothing else, he’s no longer speaking in a complete monotone by the time they return to Shiro’s small 2-bedroom apartment later that evening.

“Alright, let me give you the grand tour,” says Shiro as he unlocks the door, “First and foremost, here’s the living room.”

Keith nods, setting his luggage down beside the coffee table.

“Over there is the kitchen,” Shiro points, “Help yourself to anything you want as long as it doesn’t contain alcohol, and don’t be afraid to request things if you don’t find what you’re looking for.”

Keith nods again, and Shiro turns to lead him down the hallway.

“First bedroom on the left is mine,” explains Shiro, “Next to that is the bathroom, and way at the end is gonna be your bedroom. It doesn’t have any furniture yet, though, so bear with me.”

Keith’s eyes widen at the words “your bedroom.”

Shiro smiles, “It was my office, but I’ve moved my desk into my room and my storage into the living room so… it’s all yours.”

“Really?” asks Keith.

“Really,” confirms Shiro, “Until I save up enough to get you a bed, though, you’re welcome to the couch. We can even drag it into your room if you’d like more privacy.”

Keith shakes his head, “It’s fine where it is.”

“Okay,” says Shiro, “I’m gonna let you settle in. I’ll be in my room if you need me. Never be afraid to knock on my door.”

Keith nods and walks silently back towards the living room. Shiro frowns after him before turning around and letting himself into his room. He leaves the door open a crack, just in case.


	2. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith looks around Shiro’s room. He takes in the tidy desk, the black sheets on the queen-size bed, the empty walls. He wonders if Shiro is lonely. He quickly pushes that thought away.
> 
>  
> 
> _He doesn’t need you. None of this is forever. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Content Warnings_ : Cursing, mental illness is a major theme (including dissociation and self-harm)

**Sunday, Mar 8**

Keith isn’t sure why he’s awake at 4am, but here he is. Drinking coffee. Staring blearily around yet another unfamiliar living room. Except it’s not so unfamiliar, somehow. The blankets on the couch smell like Shiro. He’s seen the lunchbox in the fridge on Shiro’s desk dozens of times. But somehow that just adds to how surreal it all feels.

_None of this is real. None of this is forever. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached._

His head swirls with the familiar mantra. He takes another sip of coffee in a futile effort to stop the spinning. The room seems to tilt a little whenever he blinks.

\----------------

Keith looks down at his homework. He only vaguely remembers doing the last five questions, so he glances over them to make sure he didn’t screw anything up on autopilot.

_C’mon, Keith. This is the one thing you can control. Get your head out of the clouds._

He shakes his head to try and clear it, then plows through the rest of his calculus homework. He contemplates asking Shiro to check over it for him, but he decides against it.

_I can’t become dependent on others. I have to do this on my own._

He checks his math a few more times before tucking his completed homework away in his backpack. He can’t even remember what the lesson was about. But he’s confident his answers are correct. At least that’s what he tells himself.

\----------------

Shiro made dinner. He insists that Keith sit at the table so they can eat together.

“It’s just rice with a fried egg on top,” explains Shiro apologetically, “There’s some extra pepper and pickled ginger if you want more flavor.”

Keith silently reaches out his chopsticks and grabs a large clump of ginger, plopping it unceremoniously on his rice and egg before digging in.

He vaguely registers Shiro’s chuckle, “I take it you like ginger.”

Everything around him sounds muffled and surreal, like his heart is beating in his ears. But the food is good. It’s been so long since he’s used chopsticks outside a restaurant. Somehow this just adds to how unreal everything feels.

After they finish eating, Keith hears himself robotically offer to wash the dishes. It’s half out of habit and half out of appreciation for all Shiro’s done for him.

Shiro thanks him and pats his shoulder on his way out of the room.

\----------------

The water is warm. It feels nice. Keith cups his hands and loses himself in the cascade of hot water.

\----------------

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice breaks through his trance. Keith’s eyes refocus to see steam billowing up from the sink, from his hands.

“Keith!” Shiro repeats. Keith feels something cold and hard grab his wrist and tug him away from the sink. He looks down and sees the black and white plastic of Shiro’s right hand wrapped around his wrist. He watches out the corner of his eye as Shiro’s other hand reaches to turn off the faucet.

“You burned yourself, kiddo,” Shiro says softly, inspecting Keith’s palms. Keith tries to focus his eyes. His palms are bright red, but he isn’t registering any pain. Just a strange buzzing sensation in his hands. At least until Shiro touches the burnt flesh directly with a calloused fingertip.

“Ow, fuck!” Keith yelps. The room zooms back into focus and Keith becomes acutely aware of the worry on Shiro’s face.

“Good to have you back,” says Shiro, the corner of his mouth turning up in the faintest smile, “Let’s take care of your hands, okay?”

Keith nods groggily and watches as Shiro pulls a gel cold pack out of the fridge. “Hold this on your hands,” he instructs.

Keith takes the cold pack and does as instructed.

“Here, come sit on my bed while I get you some ointment,” Shiro continues, placing a hand on Keith’s elbow to lead him back to his room.

Once seated, Keith looks around Shiro’s room. He takes in the tidy desk, the black sheets on the queen-size bed, the empty walls. He wonders if Shiro is lonely. He quickly pushes that thought away.

_He doesn’t need you. None of this is forever. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached._

Shiro returns with a tin of ointment in his hands and a worried frown on his face. He takes a seat next to Keith and asks gently, “You ready?”

Keith silently sets aside the cold pack and holds out his hands. Shiro cups his right hand around Keith’s left and begins to smear a greasy ointment onto the palm with his other hand. A stings a bit, but it’s not an unpleasant sensation. A shiver runs down Keith’s spine.

“You scared me back there, buddy,” Shiro is saying. There’s something about his voice…

_Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached._

Shiro sets down Keith’s left hand and starts on the right, “Remember last year in the engineering club, you told me I was like a brother to you?”

Keith wants to say yes, but all he can manage is a strained “hm?”

Shiro finishes with his right hand and closes the ointment, wiping the extra on his pants before looking back at Keith, “Well, you’re my little brother now. Don’t be afraid to come to me if something’s wrong. I’m here for you. It’s what big brothers do.”

Keith wants to say something, but instead he just stares into Shiro’s face in stunned silence.

“Can I give you a hug?” says Shiro, almost in a whisper, “Is that okay?”

Keith manages to nod.

_Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached._

Shiro pulls Keith into a shaky hug. Keith’s arms hang limp for a few seconds before he finally brings them up to awkwardly return the gesture (without the use of his heavily-ointmented hands). “You know,” Shiro murmurs into Keith’s hair, “I always wanted a little brother growing up. Funny how these things work out.”

_Fuck._


	3. Shiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Shiro have a little talk about regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Cursing

**Sunday, March 8**

> _Shiro (11:32pm): So I might have just told the kiddo, in no uncertain terms, that we’re brothers now._
> 
> **Matt (11:33pm): there’s no escape now**
> 
> _Shiro (11:33pm): He’s a good kid._
> 
> **Matt (11:34pm): you’ve lived with him for less than 48 hours**
> 
> _Shiro (11:34pm): He’s a good kid._
> 
> **Matt (11:34pm): so you’ve told me**
> 
> _Shiro (11:35pm): Just making sure you knew._
> 
> **Matt (11:35pm): you’re gonna be a great brother**

 

 

**Wednesday, March 11**

Shiro looks up from his laptop when he hears a knock at his bedroom door, “Come on in.”

Keith opens the door with a fistful of papers in her hand and a worried look on his face.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” asks Shiro, sitting up straight and patting the spot next to him on the bed, inviting the younger boy (his brother? his brother) to sit.

Keith sits with a sigh. It’s good to see him expressing emotions again, even if his dominant emotion appears to be somewhere between anxious and disgruntled.

“What do you need?” asks Shiro gently.

“I’m applying for the astronomy program at Caltech,” says Keith, staring intently at the papers before him.

“That’s great!” Shiro gives Keith’s shoulder a hearty pat, “You’re a smart kid. They’ll be lucky to have you.”

Keith laughs bitterly, “Not if I can’t find anyone to write my letter of recommendation. My grades may be phenomenal, but everyone in the entire school hates me.”

“Are you asking me to write you a letter of recommendation?” asks Shiro.

“I dunno,” Keith shrugs, “I guess.”

“Because I can do that,” Shiro says.

Keith’s face lights up, “You can?”

“Of course,” says Shiro, “You were in my program last year. I have plenty to write about.”

“The program I get kicked out of for fighting?” Keith says, bitter again.

“You were an absolutely brilliant addition to the team,” says Shiro, “and I was heartbroken when you got yourself kicked out. I have plenty of good things to write about you. If I thought you were a bad kid, do you really think I would have invited you into my house?”

“I just…” Keith scowls, “I feel so stupid! I can’t believe I how badly I screwed that up.”

“Hey,” Shiro says, gently squeezing Keith’s shoulder, “We all have regrets. Sometimes the only way we can survive is by focusing on the positive and moving forward.”

Suddenly, Keith spins around and snaps, fire in his eyes, “What do you know about regrets?!”

“Keith,” says Shiro, calm but firm, “I lost my arm in a war I didn’t believe in just because I wanted to fly planes and couldn’t afford flight school. I think I know a thing or two about regrets.”

Keith freezes, eyes flicking back and forth like he’s contemplating what to do next. Eventually he settles on ‘shove Shiro as hard as possible and storm out of the room without another word.’

Shiro sighs and picks up the papers his brother left behind.

 

 

**Thursday, March 12**

Shiro wakes up to a notecard shoved under his door. It reads, “ _Sorry, I’m a piece of shit. You don’t have to write a letter for me. —K_ ”

Shiro responds by setting a completed letter of recommendation on the coffee table for Keith to find when he comes home.


	4. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith jolts awake, his hair plastered to his face with sweat. He’s not sure what woke him, but he remembers being scared. He feels exposed, now. Vulnerable. Like it followed him to the waking world and is lurking in the shadows of this almost-but-not-quite familiar living room. He pulls his blankets up, as if covering his skin will shield him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm still writing this. I just keep changing my mind about the plot progression and then getting frustrated and working on side projects.

**Monday, March 16**

Keith jolts awake, his hair plastered to his face with sweat. He’s not sure what woke him, but he remembers being scared. He feels exposed, now. Vulnerable. Like it followed him to the waking world and is lurking in the shadows of this almost-but-not-quite familiar living room. He pulls his blankets up, as if covering his skin will shield him. He tries pulling them over his head, too, but that leaves him suffocating and panicked.

_What am I, five? There’s no monster under the bed. This is stupid._

He wonders if he worried about things like this when he was actually five. He doesn’t really remember being five. The thought is fleeting. He’s distracted by his own thumping heart. His restricted breath. His exposed head.

_Maybe I can go sit with Shiro until this is over. He said I was welcome in his room._

He’s not sure what this is, but having someone else in the room sounds comforting. But Shiro is probably sound asleep by now. He has work in the morning. Besides, the thought of touching his feet to the ground makes Keith feel even more vulnerable. Like the shadows could reach out and grab him by the ankle.

_There is no monster under the bed. This is ridiculous._

And yet, he’s still scared. But now he’s angry, too. Angry at this nonexistent monster for taking away his freedom to walk across the goddamn floor. His face grows red with fury and he flings himself off the couch, pulling his blanket around himself like a protective cloak. He marches his way over to Shiro’s door. Fear flickers at the edges of his consciousness, but he pushes it away with rage.

He knocks and holds his breath.

No response.

He knocks again, harder. Maybe a little frantic.

This time he hears a confused groan from inside the room. A moment later, a very sleepy Shiro meets him at the door, “Keith? Are you okay? C’mere.” He ushers Keith over to the bed.

They both sit down and Keith pulls his blanket tighter around himself.

“Wha’s wrong, Keith?” Shiro is slurring his words and can barely keep his eyes open.

Keith’s rage subsides, making way for a pang of guilt. He feels like he owes Shiro an honest answer after waking him up at this hour on a work night, so he murmurs, “I was scared.”

“Did you have a nightmare?” Shiro asks.

“I… don’t know,” Keith responds, “I just woke up and felt… scared.”

“Mmm,” Shiro nods sleepily, “That happens to me sometimes. You’re okay.” He’s not wearing his prosthetic and Keith is to his right, so he settles for fondly bumping his shoulder against Keith’s, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Keith’s muscles relax a bit.

“D’you wanna sleep in here tonight?” mumbles Shiro, his eyes fully closed now.

“Is that okay?” asks Keith.

“Course,” Shiro nods groggily, pulling up a blanket to let Keith in, “You’re always welcome in here, remember? You’re my brother now.”

Keith curls up on the empty side of the bed.

“I’m gonna… go back to sleep if that’s okay,” mumbles Shiro, laying down on his back. He’s asleep before Keith can even thank him.

A few stray shadows still flicker in the corners of Keith’s mind as he tries to fall back asleep. Sighing in frustration, he shuffles sideways a bit, until his back is pressed against his brother’s side. A comforting warmth fills him and he drifts off to sleep.


	5. Shiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forward, two steps back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Cursing, mental illness stuff is really intense in this chapter, blood, self-harm kind of?

**Monday, March 16**

   


> _Shiro (6:12pm): Guess who came and slept in my bed last night._
> 
> **Matt (6:13pm): allura? ;)**
> 
> _Shiro (6:13pm): Matt, you’re gonna be the death of me._
> 
> _Shiro (6:13pm): No, Keith._
> 
> **Matt (6:14pm): i… can’t make that one into an innuendo, he’s your little bro. you’re makin’ this hard for me shirogane**
> 
> _Shiro (6:14pm): Yes, please refrain._
> 
> _Shiro (6:15pm): He had a nightmare, I think? The details are a little fuzzy. I was half asleep and very medicated._
> 
> **Matt (6:15pm): aww**
> 
> **Matt (6:15pm): you’re the best brother**
> 
> **Matt (6:15pm): never stop telling me about your adorable brother adventures**
> 
> _Shiro (6:16pm): I’m gonna be sad when this kid goes off to college. He wants to go to Caltech._
> 
> **Matt (6:16pm): I’m torn between saying “ooooo i like this kid’s taste” and “wow you get attached fast”**
> 
> **Matt (6:17pm): so i guess i’ll go with both**
> 
> **Matt (6:17pm): but ALSO**
> 
> **Matt (6:17pm): winter/spring/summer breaks exist, and you seem to be the closest thing to family this kid has?**
> 
> **Matt (6:18pm): i foresee plenty of keith in your future**
> 
> **Matt (6:18pm): i mean, it’s just a hypothesis. but i’m pretty confident in this hypothesis.**
> 
> _Shiro (6:19pm): I sure hope so._

 

  


**Sunday, March 29**

“Keith, when was the last time you ate?” asks Shiro as he rummages through the fridge, “You’ve been home all weekend, and I haven’t seen you eat once.”

“I had breakfast,” retorts Keith from the couch, not taking his eyes off his AP Physics textbook.

“What did you have for breakfast?” asks Shiro.

“Coffee,” Keith replies curtly.

Shiro groans, “That’s hardly breakfast. You gotta get some food in you, buddy.”

“I’m busy,” says Keith.

“I’ll cook for you,” says Shiro, “Just tell me what you want and I’ll make you dinner.”

“I have to study,” growls Keith, “I’ll eat later.”

“Keith, as far as I can tell, you’ve consumed nothing but coffee all weekend,” Shiro tries to reason with him, “That’s not healthy. Just let me make you dinner.”

“Did you not _hear_ me?” Keith says, voice dripping with venom.

“It’ll take maybe five minutes out of your day to eat some canned soup or mac and cheese—”

“I’m **_BUSY_**!” Keith roars, ripping half the pages from his textbook in one furious swipe.

Shiro closes the fridge and stares slack-jawed at Keith, who sits frozen in place, clutching the decimated remains of his textbook and panting with rage. Blood soaks into the pages from the myriad of fresh papercuts on Keith’s hand. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the boy slowly lowers the pages into his lap and looks down at the ruined textbook. He sucks a breath in through his teeth, “Shit.”

“Keith?” says Shiro softly.

Keith responds with a small, defeated hum.

“Can I came join you?” asks Shiro.

Keith shrugs.

Shiro makes his way over to the couch to sit beside his brother. After a moment, he asks, “Is it okay if I touch you right now?”

Keith nods.

Shiro reaches out a hand and places it softly on the younger boy’s shoulder, “You okay?”

Keith shrugs again.

Shiro gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, “When was the last time you saw your therapist, buddy?” He realizes with a pang of guilt that he probably should have asked this question weeks ago.

“I don’t have a therapist,” responds Keith sullenly.

“I know you had one when you were in the foster system,” says Shiro.

“I fired her,” says Keith.

Shiro sighs and shakes his head.

“I hate her!” defends Keith, sensing his brother’s disapproval.

“Well, not every therapist is a winner,” says Shiro, rubbing his brother’s shoulder with his thumb, “Believe me, I know. Sounds like it’s time to find you a therapist you don’t hate.”

“I hate them _all_ ,” insists Keith.

“I’m impressed,” Shiro raises his eyebrows.

“Why?” Keith squints.

“That you’ve somehow met _every single therapist_ on the planet!”

“Shiro!” Keith groans.

“Seriously, though. There are good therapists out there. Sometimes it just takes a little work to find them,” Shiro assures.

“Hah!” Keith lets out a bitter laugh, “For what? For PTSD? That’s what you have, right? Heh. We’re not the same. Do they treat you like you’re unfixable and subhuman? Do they assume everything you do is manipulative, just because of three little words on a sheet of paper?”

Shiro bites his tongue and holds back tears.

“Yeah. I didn’t think so,” Keith concludes, daggers in his voice.

“Okay,” says Shiro, trying to hold himself together, “Okay. We can talk about this more later.”

\----------------

Shiro can’t really remember getting up to return to his room, but here he is with his phone in hand, finger hoovering over the call button. His hand is numb as he presses it and puts the phone to his ear. It rings once, twice… five times and then there’s a beep.

_“You’ve reached the phone of local genius Matthew Holt. By local, I mean local to the Milky Way Galaxy. I’m probably busy doing a science or something, so leave a message at the beep so I can get back to you!”_

“Matt,” Shiro chokes on the tears suddenly spilling down his face, “Hey. I’m coming over. I’ll explain when I get there.”

He sets his phone down and grabs a pillow to cry into until he’s composed enough to drive. 


	6. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two steps back, one step forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Cursing, pretty intense mental illness stuff, self-harm, hospitalization talk
> 
> So... this got a lot more intense than I really anticipated.

**Monday, March 30**

“I _fucked up_ ,” growls Keith to no one in particular as he slams the heavy bag in front of him with a right hook that that sends a sharp pain shooting up his wrist. He should probably be wearing protective gloves for this, but he doesn’t care. He needs to feel the raw thud of his knuckles against something.

“I fucked up really bad, and I don’t know how to fix it.” He breathes through his teeth and switches his stance to swipe at the bag with a vicious elbow strike.

It’s barely 5am and there’s no one else in the gym. Just Keith, beating the ever-loving shit out of a heavy bag. His shirt and hair are soaked with sweat, and he’s made no effort to conceal the bags under eyes or the disorganized mess of scratches adorning his arms and face.

With a roar, he throws the entire weight of his body at the heavy bag. Then he slides down to sit on the floor, rocking back and forth. Clenching and unclenching his bruised fists. He tastes copper in his mouth from a split lip.

_Who ever said you can’t get into a fist fight with yourself? I’ve got news for them._

He laughs bitterly.

Then he feels his phone buzz against his thigh. He fights the urge to fling the phone at the nearest wall and forces himself to check the message. It’s from Shiro. He sucks in air and tries to contain the rage coursing through his body.

_Not at Shiro. Not at Shiro. I fucked up, not Shiro._

He takes a deep breath and reads the message.

 

> **Shiro (5:13am): Hey kiddo. I need to apologize for last night. I’m supposed to be the big brother. I’m supposed to be there for you no matter what, and I wasn’t last night. I broke under the pressure. I’ll try harder to be there for you in the future.**

Keith grits his teeth as tears well in his eyes. He starts typing several times before finally finishing and sending his response.

 

> _Keith (5:21am): I fucked up. I hurt you. I shouldn’t have said what I said._

Then he breaks down crying on the gym floor, where the gym manager finds him twenty minutes later.

\----------------

Four hours later, Shiro picks him up from the emergency room.

“You’re lucky they didn’t hospitalize you,” says Shiro on the drive home.

“You shouldn’t’ve taken off work to come get me,” says Keith, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey, what’s the point of having a brother if he can’t swoop in and save you from an involuntary psych hospitalization,” responds Shiro, half a smile on his face.

Keith sighs and stares out the window, “I’m just… too much. I’m too much and you shouldn’t have to constantly save my ass.”

Shiro shakes his head, “Nonsense. You’re not too much. You’re just the right amount. My life is a lot better with a Keith in it.” He reaches over to give Keith’s shoulder a light shove.

The corner of Keith’s mouth twitches up in the slightest of smiles.

 

 

**Tuesday, March 31**

Keith wakes to a light flicking on in the kitchen. He cracks an eye and sees Shiro stooped over the sink, splashing water on his face. The back of his tank top is soaked with sweat and he’s visibly shaken. He props himself against the counter with his one full arm, the stump of the other pinned uncomfortably close to his right side in a defensive shrug.

Quietly, Keith frees himself of his blankets and pads towards the kitchen. Shiro doesn’t notice him until his foot slaps against the hard linoleum of the kitchen floor.

“Matt?” Shiro spins around, startled. He’s breathing is too fast, too shallow.

Keith’s heart stutters. It was jarring to see Shiro like this. He freezes for a moment, then steels himself and makes his way over to Shiro and puts a gentle hand on his right shoulder. He feels the muscle tense beneath his papercut-laden palm. “Hey,” he says in a creaky near-whisper, “It’s… it’s Keith. Y-you’re here in the kitchen with me. You’re safe. Everyone’s safe.”

“Keith,” Shiro lets out a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” confirms Keith, “It’s me.”

Shiro closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing.

“D’you want me to like… hug you or something?” Keith asks awkwardly.

“Yes,” Shiro confirms breathlessly.

Keith steps closer and wraps his arms around Shiro’s—his brother’s—torso, “Hey. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Shiro leans into the hug and returns the gesture with his left arm. Keith can feel the tension leave his brother’s body.

“Thanks Keith,” says Shiro, his voice exhausted, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“What’s the point of having a brother if he can’t swoop in and save you from scary half-awake flashbacks?” says Keith, pulling away with a grin.

Shiro gives a tired chuckle, “Well said, kiddo. Well said.” Then he sighs, “I should get back to bed. I have work in the morning.”

“D’you…” Keith hesitates, “Would you like me to come with you?”

“That sounds good,” Shiro says with a weak smile, “That sounds nice.”

They make their way back to Shiro’s room and climb into bed. This time Keith lays down with his shoulder pressed firmly against Shiro’s, a small gesture to keep his brother anchored. Or maybe to keep them both anchored.

They lay in silence for a bit, then Shiro murmurs, “This seems to be becoming a regular occurrence.”

“Is that okay?” asks Keith.

“I like it,” confirms Shiro.

Silence again. Then Keith quietly suggests, “Maybe we should just keep doing this. Y’know, until I get a bed.”

Shiro hums contentedly, “I’d like that.”

“Well then, that’s settled,” says Keith with a yawn.

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna come say hi, I'm [Agapostemon](https://agapostemon.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!
> 
> Also: Please remember that I write purely for fun and catharsis. My fics are unbeta’d and minimally proofread. They’re not perfect, and that’s okay. If you notice something I could fix or improve, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If I genuinely want critique, I’ll ask a close friend in private. **Surprise critiques are very stressful and discouraging.** Thanks for understanding!


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